


Lanai Alchemy

by peacocktails



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi
Genre: Ahch-To, F/M, Force Sex (Star Wars), Lanais, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Older Man/Younger Woman, Porn with Feelings, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 04:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14157243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacocktails/pseuds/peacocktails
Summary: The obligatory sex pollen fic, from the 'obligatory sex pollen prompt' on TFA_kink.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Freve is an original character from my other fic 'Third Lesson'. But you don't need to read that fic to understand this one, nor does that fic connect to this one in any other way. :-)
> 
> Please be warned that this fic arguably involves dubious sexual consent, and I don't condone Freve's actions in any way.

He'd known the Force since before he could remember; since before Luke had reminded his people that the Lanai could know it at all. Since he was the size of a flowerpot Freve had been ridiculed by kith and kin for his claim to it.  

 _I'll teach you how to read_ , Luke had said, so many years ago. _And read the texts, if you like. But I'm not going to publically name anyone as being strong with the Force._ _I'm not going to make any more Jedi. These islanders - the women, especially - have an unhealthy relationship to the Jedi Order, and no good would come of it._

.. _Look.. I'll let you in on a secret. If I'd have known there was still sapient life here, I would've stranded myself elsewhere. Because I see now that I've pretty_ _much stranded you, too._

Freve had always suspected it a threadbare, mean excuse (and a mere sop at sympathy). And now that that girl had been allowed to stay, he knew it for one.

Opportunist, lech; that must be the reason she walked day and night to and from his hut. Why, just the other day he'd spotted them up on the ancient training rocks, preparing no doubt to lift them (and then, perhaps, drop them into the sea and thus disturb the day's prospective catch - how inconsiderate.)  
  
He'd show them what he'd taught himself by his own hand and the sweat of his brow, in that twenty odd years since Luke had refused him.  
  
 _The Force is my ally_ , Freve intoned to himself, as he carefully untied the string securing the drumskin lid to the little glass preserve-jar he clutched in both webbed hands. _It is a powerful ally._ His shoulders heaved with a silent chuckle as, with the Force, he spread an invisibly thin layer of the yellow dust inside onto Rey's pillow. Taking the fabric of the pillow in his claws, he gently shook the pollen into the porgfeather stuffing.   
  
Weeks, it would take, to get out - more than enough time.   
  
And now to Luke's. The galaxy would know the pride and power of Lanai alchemy, some day, and Freve would have a life beyond this forsaken rock.


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed to have started slowly: he knew that much. He'd woken up fiercely hard for the first time since he couldn't remember when. He'd tugged at it for ten minutes - no luck - then had to wait for five (and think about Tauntaun entrails) before it got the message and let him leave the hut.  
  
When the thoughts began, they seemed to pool first into attentional gaps, such as created by routine daily tasks. Gutting the fish - he'd broken through its filmy under-skin to pink flesh, with a bloodspotted finger, and wondered if his taskmate was still that way intact. A bit creepy. Milking the sirens - remembering just how humanoid their udders were, remembering, how many years since he'd seen - ? And then as they were walking back, an actual urge: to tell her about how decadent he'd felt when he used to suckle directly.  
  
He squashed it, and a thought popped up: Rey hid something, too.  
  
The following dawn did not bring him back his focus, of which there now didn't seem to be enough to catch anything. But he could make sure to give her an arm's length of space at all times, as she cast a net in the shallows for smaller fish. And he watched her, as she watched the flashing tails. She'd told him she was used to waiting. True enough: she wasn't impatient (as he'd been.)

So trusting of him, too: to forgive him for being late that morning, and to not ask why. (Because he still couldn't make it go away the nice way, he'd cursed himself later for wanting to tell her.)

And at dinner - as she ate those tiny silver slivers from the net - mental images pried: of a different flesh filling her hungry little scavenger's mouth.  
  
It just wasn't _nice_ of him to want so much to see her doing something like that.  
  
_Hey - hey, it's okay - it's normal to have desires you know you're not going to act on_ , the words of the Jedi Master he'd tried to become for Ben Solo mocked him, as later that night he tried to fall asleep. When, one hour later, he was still awake and hard, he knew this had to be something external: a disease; a syndrome; a poisoning.. It wasn't past possibility any more, either, that this was of malicious Force: something, perhaps, that had jumped onto Rey like the thistleburrs on Chewie's pelt, or that had been hiding dormant on him or on the island.  
  
Either way, he thought, the next day, it knew his vulnerable points well: a lifelong tendency to squeamishness - of a certain kind - that was making him so reluctant to ask the Lanai elders about his present symptoms.  
  
Such bad memories, he thought, as on the clifftop from a safe distance he supervised Rey spinning his father's lightsaber as if about to take someone's head off. Of being caught and punished by Aunt Biru. Of hating himself on the Millennium Falcon to the point of wanting to throw up, after the thought crossed his mind that now he'd never get caught by Aunt Biru again. Of learning the truth only one night after he'd felt the feelings he'd spent his teen years waiting so anxiously to feel as he entertained thoughts about Princess Organa -  
  
_\- that's your baggage to bear, not hers; pay attention -_  
  
People had carried such heavy bundles of expectations about Jedi. You could walk into the room, and be, to one stranger, an ascetic who's mastered attachment, to another a knight of some kind of religion of sex, and, to yet another, the stoic bearer of all those other people's unreasonable expectations. There hadn't seemed to be much room for just plain mediocrity, though, and -  
  
_\- you're just wasting time. All this just drives a stake between you and her, and that's not going to help_ anything.  
  
_Drive a stake between you and her_ , an oddly command-like thought popped in. "Oh, ha, ha, very funny," Luke muttered at himself under his breath (that bad habit born of living alone). "You _know_ that's a stupid idea."  
  
But now Rey was glancing over her shoulder. She'd seen his mouth move from out of the corner of her eye.  
  
And now he'd disturbed and probably upset her. He cursed himself, and kept watching her, trying to project benevolence - but disturbing thoughts were flooding, burgeoning now. When he felt the blood involuntarily flowing to his midriff again, he turned away, gritting his teeth and heading for the Lanai village over the muddy gravel.  
  
When he'd managed to confess everything to them, however, they had nothing to tell him. Freve, strong with the Force, had been away on the season's fishing trip since a moon ago, the village's headwoman Alcida told him. And bookish Neuva - the only villager he really trusted with personal matters - had gone crustacean-hunting on that same boat (finally sick of her husband, he guessed). All Alcida knew of Luke's predicament she knew from childish fables only. No one in written or living memory had actually suffered an attack of 'Lanai-pollen', a mythical substance which never failed to overpower self-restraint. Alcida hoped it would stay that way. "Okay. That's interesting," he said to her in Lanai. "Do you know if there's a cure?"  
  
Alcida shrugged exasperatedly. "A magic kiss?"  
  
So Luke reopened a shaky (and increasingly desperate) link to the Force that night, to try to test more sinister possibilities. An image of rocks and rippling water showed him that the island's source of the Dark had been disturbed by human hands several days ago - the same day, funnily enough, that the thoughts had started intruding. Rey hadn't told him about this transgression - nor about whatever it was that he still sensed that she was keeping from him.  
  
He'd keep away from her for a little while, he decided: perhaps a day or two. It seemed likely that there was some sort of confusion or coincidence involved, and, being honest with himself, he didn't feel confident that he could respond to it sensibly.  
  
But she came that night anyway to the door, as in his wicker chair he'd been catching up on years of galactic affairs on Han's old holoreader. Even before she knocked he felt the redolent wash of her inner conflict and her guilty conscience. He'd been planning to tell her in as much a spirit of honesty as possible that he was ill. But she came to him now, he seemed to sense, with an intent for him to learn some kind of truth. Brave: she meant for him to learn even if it meant he'd be angry at her.  
  
But it wasn't worth the risk. "Ah - hello. Do you think you could come back later?" _'Because if you stay here I'm going to get visibly aroused'._ "It's just that -"  
  
She was letting herself in. "I'm really sorry to disturb you. But it's -"  
  
"Rey, I think you'd better go." _'Because something I don't understand is telling me that the nicest thing in the world right now would be to crawl on top of you and push.'_ "I'm actually kind of sick, at the moment - possibly contagious -"  
  
"I understand," she said, head down and terrifyingly aware that he'd just lied. "But it's important. Things have happened that I need to talk to you about." He took hold of the wicker armrest to get up and shoo her away. But promptly she slid his door closed behind her and took a seat on his bed, and he realised that he wouldn't be able to spend more than about twenty seconds standing in front of her before she noticed something.  
  
So Luke laid the holoreader down on the floor and sat back down, crossing his legs. He waited for her to speak, but too many seconds passed in silence. "You went to the cave," he said, the better, hopefully, to get this over with. "That's what you came here to tell me, isn't it?"  
  
But it was not surprise, now, but a curious kind of _relief t_ hat seemed to hit her. On the meagre sliver he could see of her mind, as she slowly nodded, was a sort of straining ambivalence. There was something _else_ that she'd been wrestling over whether to divulge, such that his confrontation about the cave had served, infuriatingly, only as a decoy.  
  
And floating over everything else was a desire for forgiveness - she wanted it quite desperately, now - perhaps needed it?  
  
He'd give her a chance to be brave and tell him. "Have you been noticing any changes in your consciousness? In the way you think?" He leaned forward to rest crossed forearms on his crossed legs.  
  
_That_ surprised her. But right away her barriers came up against him like black iron. "I've been .. a bit foggy, lately, in a certain way," she lied. "It's just that I've had - thoughts, that I'm not sure about."  
  
That much, Luke could tell, was true - although they weren't thoughts about him, that was quite plain. "Right," he said, considering for a second again whether to send her away.  
  
She seemed to sense this, and presently, with head down, lied again: "In the cave."  
  
"Whatever you saw down there is for you, in the end; only for you. You know I can't give you the answers to the questions the cave's asking you."  
  
More black iron behind her eyes. Smart: she knew it wasn't the cave or her visions that mattered. "What are the thoughts you need to tell me?" he asked, but not unkindly.  
  
She stalled over the gaping edge of possible confession. "...The thoughts that you brought with you to that cave," he continued, and she seemed unsure whether even to try to squeeze out from under some Dark pressure inside. "That you're not sure whether it's safe to tell me."  
  
Poor Rey - the water would be cold, but she needed a gentle push. "Tell me about them, now."  
  
"..No," she said. "I'm afraid that it'll turn out badly."  
  
A little relief shimmered privately inside him: a grasping or craven person wouldn't defy him like that. But there was still a bit of unpalatable truth she was holding back in order to get her way. He'd like to get up - he cursed his ridiculous nagging erection - and tell her how she was being brave; sit down next to her, maybe: maybe that would be the push -  
  
_-push; what are you talking about -_  
  
"No. That's not it," Rey shook her head, to herself more than to him, and Luke listened. "It's that I'm afraid you're going to make a bad decision." She had to force the words out almost through her teeth.  
  
"Rey," Luke murmured. "It's brave of you to tell me that. ..And can you tell me why you think I'll make a bad decision?"  
  
Turn out badly - her mind was turning him out, now, everywhere -  
  
\- hang on - black iron, turning -  
  
His eyes widened with animal recognition. "It's Ben Solo, isn't it?" The boy - Luke exhaled - he was hiding what he felt for her in an old man's body; so much the easier to convince her or himself that whatever business he thought he had with her was purely ideological. "I see, now." Luke gripped his knee in steel-clawed fingers. "You believe you can turn Ben Solo."  
  
"No, no -" Rey raised shaking hands - "no, please - please listen -"  
  
He held back. _Keep being brave_ , he urged her, as owlishly he watched and waited for her response. _Tell the truth you think will make me angry._  
  
"... It's only that I think I see him," she lied. She was in direct contact with him and she knew it. Subtly he shook his head, and kept his eyes trained on her.  
  
No response.  
  
So he -  
  
\- _don't stand up, you might still be_ -  
  
\- upright, and sat facing her on the end of the bed. "Rey, listen," he said, clasping his hands together on his knee. "I know very well you're not being entirely truthful. ... And I'm going to give you one more chance to tell me what's been going on. ..But after that, we won't be using words." He looked up at her from lowered eyes. "Okay?"  
  
At some point over the last few minutes his pillow had shifted into her lap like a child's fabric toy. She raised it now with a protective instinct almost to her chest, and lowered her head. A twinge of guilt touched him as she hid her face in it, now, and exhaled deeply - readying herself, apparently, to speak.  
  
A minute later, her head was still in the pillow, and Luke had realised that this probably wasn't as sensible an idea as the revelation about Ben had made it seem.  
  
"Hm.." Luke said. "You know, we're going to have to find out what's going on in your mind." He sighed. "But, as I said, I'm sick. Can I trust you - is it _safe_ \- to come back here in the morning?"  
  
"No," said Rey through the pillow.  
  
And the tiny, clear part of him realised that, with his twinge of fury at her and Ben, he'd gone too far. It was over, now.  
  
So he suppressed his anger, because under her cotton-soft facade her heart was palpitating, a little, with the distress of the unforgiven. He'd try his best to strip her cover away without pain or invasion. Such stifling layers of burden rested on her shoulders, he thought, and such secrets on her chest. He'd try to relieve her of them if only for a little while.  
  
He bent down over her to take them.  
  
"Master Skywalker, are you -" Removing the thing on her shoulders and letting it drop, he moved his attentions to the tight bind around her stomach, where a weapon was held. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm examining your mind," he let her plainly know in a soft voice he hoped would reassure. From his days serving the New Republic he knew that adopting submissive body language helped suspects under questioning to feel more at ease. "Rey, it's not beyond Ben Solo to hijack part of you, even in some small way." Still, there wasn't the panic or horror in her response to his mind's touch that there'd be in an Imperial loyalist secretbearer. Just - a kind of foggy ambivalence, about whether to resist. Quite strange for her, really.  
  
At his thought of 'strange', she drew her knees up towards her chest, and let go of the pillow. "Erm - no - that's _not_ what you're doing.." Ah, there she was; stubborn as ever. A relief.  
  
She glanced down at his father's lightsaber for a split second, too. But then she saw him notice her glance, and with eyes guiltily closed, she let him take her belt away.  
  
He crawled up onto the bed and, kneeling, raised tentative fingers. "It's going to be okay."


	3. Chapter 3

The thoughts she'd having about Ben Solo - was he aware of them, when they saw each other in the Force?  
  
Responsible, somehow, for them?

 _Obstructing_ Luke's attempt to get them out, in this bizarre way?  
  
Luke's knees were splayed on the bed and his palms pressed indents into the porgfeather mattress stuffing around her buttocks. There was something very wrong, she knew, about him being in such a pose over her, on his bed. Something very significant.  
  
Maybe it was just a meditation posture? A silly idea, for the most part, but -  
  
He was moving closer to her. Presently he knelt, and took the hem of her tunic in his fingers to lift it.  
  
To pull it up over her head - no, this was - she had to resist, keep her elbows down -  
  
\- what did that word mean: 'resist'? She diverted energy to thought as he gently tugged upwards. Close your eyes; think. Something brushed over her head; she hoped it was a thought.  
  
Did 'resist' mean push away, or pull towards - or stop, or start? - no, it meant -   
  
She noticed her tunic now on the floor and that her arms felt very, very light. There was something she had to remember, now. _Remember._  
  
His fingers - kind, cold - took the knot behind the wide cotton strips binding her chest. She _had to remember_ that there was something she had to remember.  
  
Wasn't there? Something..  
  
Was it a word?  
  
What did she have to do with the word? Re -  
  
Speak?  
  
Make a sound?  
  
But his lips were over hers, now.  
  
"Mmmf.." Yes, that was right. Yes, she just - had to make a nice sound.. "Fmmm.." No, it didn't matter if it didn't sound like a word. Or if his tongue was past her lips, pushing open her teeth.  
  
Suddenly he seemed to stop - reluctant..? A sudden shock. Again: there was something she had to _do._  
  
Bring Master Skywalker. He might know - bring -  
  
She felt herself reach out as if to pull him closer, but her legs twitched, instead of her arms. Still, that was what she had needed to do; he was here, now, she just..  
  
The cool air stung her bare, open thighs. Her trousers had gone, for some reason. It was a strange and funny place, inside the Force.  
  
But she could trust him; she just had to open up to him, because he was unbuckling his belt and pulling it down and off to lie with his leg-wraps and boots on the floor. "There is a Dark thing, blocking my mind," she heard herself say firmly, and it was true. "Right now. Even right now."  
  
"There you go, see," Luke murmured, and stroked and squeezed her shoulder and upper arm. "There you go." And he was unbuttoning his culottes, hastily: with shaking fingers that told her he wanted to give her whatever she needed; that he wanted so much to help.  
  
"I don't know why I believe Kylo Ren can be turned," she murmured, and she and the words felt weightless, somehow. "He's talked to me. Here, and unkindly. But still I believe it." She hadn't felt this way on Starkiller Base, in Kylo's cell.   
  
Was that Luke's doing? She sneezed, for some reason, and sneezed again. Some kind of - mental? - cleaning substance the Force was putting into her head - mind?  
  
A good thing? "That's it," Luke murmured. "Good, Rey." Tugging his culottes and underclothes down and off. Once, far away, a medical droid had given her an operation - Luke had noticed that memory, but that wasn't what Kylo had done or might have to her, though. She - he wanted her to let him access _that._  
  
"I want to believe so much that there's enough good in him." An image of General Organa and verdant D'Qar, of the warmth and pressure of grieving arms on Rey's back. They both re-felt it.  
  
"I know.. yes, I know."  
  
"And I want to believe it _for me_ ," she said. "Not for the Resistance. And I'd like to know the truth about you for my own sake, too. But you told me there's Dark in me, enough to make me vulnerable to him.."  
  
"There is, Rey," Luke whispered above her, and stroked a strand of hair out of her eyes. She'd started sweating. "But - as long as you're here with me, we're going to try to fix that, okay?"  
  
Rey nodded with a heavy head. And then he was gently prompting her, by fingers on her back, to shuffle forward, and with his other hand he propped the pillow beneath her lower hips. He - his warm hand slid up her back; she sunk down and deep into the bed - he was going to put something inside her, now. For some reason Rey didn't really know what it was, and sometimes learning new things could be scary, yes; maybe a little bit painful at first, but worth it. It was the serpent-head handle of his cane and the electric prod he used to keep the thala-bulls away, and it would make her mind clean inside for the Resistance. So she reached up - again, with her legs - and wrapped him around.   
  
Yes, she wanted so much to be brave; to be good, but - "..But there's Dark in you, too - isn't there? Don't deny it - please."  
  
"Yes.." His beard tickled her lips as he kissed her ear. "Yes, but you don't have to be afraid of that, I don't think.."   
  
"Alright," Rey whispered, and felt his nose on her cheek for her to open her mouth to him again. "Okay." She heard herself gasp - a small, mouselike squeak - as he pushed into her centre, to the hilt.  
  
Jakku had made her reluctant to let anyone inside - but he was fixing that, now: scouring her mind with scrubbing pushes; sluicing the bad things out, and she musn't pull away, she -  
  
 _no - stop - wait - this isn't Force training, this is -_  
  
Feeling her subtle twinge, he stopped momentarily. She cursed herself: she was going straight to the Dark, again; did she want him to turn away, like he did before?  
  
No, she didn't want that, she told herself, and told herself to accept that it was okay and safe for him to fill her like this.  
  
There were so many parts of her, she realised now, that he could get inside: inside, but never to damage or corrupt. Tentatively she leaned up to offer him her mouth, and invite his tongue in again.   
  
Yes, it was safe to receive, and it was safe to offer, a vivid thought occurred as rhythmically he pushed into and out of her. So safe - so nice - to feel the ebb and flow of her breathing; their breathing. An inhale and then an exhale was and had always been fathomless deep, and heavy as gravity. So nice just to _notice_ it now, to accept it and to let it wash over her, and - and in time, perhaps, wash her away: so that 'now' would only be 'this', and all else passing by, illusory.  
  
No; he had always been inside her, as much as the blood pumping into and out of her heart - and she, in turn, in him. And what was going on here, she saw now, through a sudden and uncanny window lifted up in the corner of her stupor, was that she was having sex with him.  
  
A sudden flash in his eyes. He'd seen it, too.  
  
In his eyes grew a slow horror. The weird image of a phrase flashed into her mind, apparently directly imported from his: _get Freve._  
  
What did that mean, and should she say something?  
  
Would it help him, at all?  
  
No, she thought, and then the window shadowed over, and she felt herself fly away, again, backwards into innocent bliss. She closed her eyes and squeezed tighter around him and gasped, as he remained aware of - something nice and mysterious, she only knew it didn't matter what. Within seconds, it seemed to leave him, too, and he began rolling into her again.  
  
It was something, maybe, just for plants and animals: something offered, and copied, and given and taken. She lifted her legs higher up around him, and he seemed to shudder into her. Friendly, and interesting, and strange.  
  
He dropped - his warm weight pressed her down, and he took hold of and clutched her upper body. So deep - void of all worries, preconceptions, doctrines - nice and nothing, and now she was being emptied out, to be replenished, in slow time, with a new wakefulness of ant-busy preoccupations, and ideas, and realisations. In the morning, they'd replace everything.

But she'd return to this place, eventually, too. Everything did.


	4. Chapter 4

He'd be on her like a carrybeast in fertile-season by now, of course, Freve thought. And she on him: of course, males his age were probably not the primary sexual target of young human females, but, with no others of her species on the planet, the pollen surely would have worked just the same.  
  
Perhaps she would run to him, soon, so that Freve could talk to her in the fluent Basic he'd learned painstakingly from Luke.  
  
 _It must be Lanai pollen, Miss Rey-from-Nowhere_ , perhaps he'd say. _It catches where it shouldn't, every now and then, in the fertile season._   
  
He hid in the rotting, moss-green wood of a disused fishing boat, beneath a darkening rock-grey sky. The breeze chilled his scales and ruffled the lapels of his waistcoat. _The wind's been blowing southeast on the temple rocks, hasn't it, lately? From the Verdant Island._  
  
He shivered, and turned up his collar for warmth.  
  
 _You see, now, a little bit, why we Lanai can be so uptight about certain parts of life? How frustrating it is for us that things from the plants and in the air can affect us in this way we cannot guard ourselves against._  
  
And perhaps she'd brandish her staff in her hand at him and growl. Funny human.  
  
But she ought not worry. Lanai kept secrets with their lives.

  
  
\---

  
  
"But I saw Freve, just the other day!"  
  
"Freve's _here?_ Oh, of _course_ he is.."  
  
"D'you think should we get him now?"  
  
"Yep; we're gonna _get_ him, alright - Rey, would you mind holding this for a second?" He handed her one of the fishing nets full of clothes, and then promptly emptied a flask full of cold water over his head.  
  
As they wove their way down the cliff to the sea to wash the contents of the nets, Rey noticed that, below his woollen tunic, his culottes were tented, meaning that the Lanai pollen -  
  
\- meaning that her mind still needed more cleaning.  
  
She could tell from his hesitation, however, that the laundry carried on his back - sheets, blankets, pillows, filling his entire fishing-net - was very important, too.  
  
But they needn't wait until they'd finished with it. Briskly she knelt, pulling her trousers and underclothes down to her ankles. She pressed happy palms down into the dewy grass, and, lifting her buttocks, showed him she consented to the mind probe.  
  



End file.
